Matthew pushed away from the wall and walked to him. “Not here. I’d prefer a spot where we’re not being watched and overheard.”
“We’re always going to be watched.” At least, he was.
Frustration flared in the man’s gaze. “Outside by the vehicles, at least?”
“Sure.” That was it. Ben strode past him and led the way. By Debra’s SUV, he crossed his arms and rested his back to the side panel. “What’s on your mind?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“Calgary.”
Ben shrugged. “What happened between us in Calgary?”
Matthew tipped his head slightly to the right. “Going to be dense about it?”
“Look, Jigs. I get that for you something like the racial crap isn’t common. Because you don’t choose to see it or you’re not around people who have it done to them often. Don’t know and I don’t care. To me, it’s a daily occurrence. So if there’s a specific incident you want to talk about, just fucking tell me because, quite honestly, they tend to blur into one big pile of shit I don’t give a fuck to reminisce about.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to you. Yes, I should have said something, but I’m talking about what happened between us.”
“What happened between us?” Ben understood that while incidents he faced due to the job he did could blur, he categorically knew every fucking one of his interactions with Matthew Jigs. And perhaps they had different ideas of something happening between them, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what this man was going on about.
Matthew glared at him. “You don’t remember?”
“Wouldn’t be asking if I did.”
The bullfighter moved closer and Ben realized his eyes weren’t just plain brown. There were flecks of green in them.
“This is about claiming you have it all figured out.”
Ben’s gut tightened. He’d been wrong, he really wasn’t ready for this. The determination in Matthew’s gaze threw him.
How the hell could one man be so stubborn? Matthew stepped up to Ben, keeping enough distance between them so the people he had no doubt were stealing looks wouldn’t be able to tell how much he wanted to kiss this man on his lips.
“That’s what I thought,” Matthew grumbled. “You toss out shit like that and walk away.”
Ben uncrossed his arms from his wide chest. A chest Matthew would love to be held against. He was wiry while Ben was much more muscular, due to the difference in their jobs. He dreamed about sleeping against him, smoothing his hands over him. Being allowed to fucking touch.
Dreams that didn’t have a place right now. The last thing he needed was to have cause to hide an erection pressing against his jeans.
And he had to think of all the shit that pissed him off the second Ben licked his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “Are you telling me that you’re needing to school me on how some things work with regards to the shit I go through?”
“I’m telling you that just because you don’t see me out there swinging punches with you, which for the record I would have done if you’d let me know that shit was going down, but I digress. It doesn’t mean I am not on your side.”
Ben opened his mouth only to close it again. He narrowed his eyes slightly then nodded. “Fine.”
“Not buying it. What do you need from me? Want me to walk in with you? Hang out? Christ, tell me how to make it easier for you at the rodeos, Ben. I’ll do it.” His hands burned with the need to touch this man—for more than one reason.
“We don’t hang out. We pass one another in the back and give head nods. We don’t hang out at the bar after. You’re with the other bullfighters and I’m off by myself if I go at all. I don’t know what you’re looking for, Jigs, but I’m not about to be your project ‘Make me feel good about myself’ because you saw me with a shiner. I get harder hits when I do my job.”
“Fuck, you’re stubborn. All I hear is the proper way to say things to not offend someone. From you, from others, Jesus, I don’t know what to say!”
“That’s the thing.” Ben shrugged. “I don’t need you to say anything.”
Frustration nearly overwhelmed him. He was fucking this entire thing up and didn’t know how to recover.
“Are you dating that Deacon guy?”
Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, there’s a change. Wanting to be a friend and help me fight the shit I go through to assuming I’m gay and dating my friend’s brother.”
“Just answer the fucking question.” Matthew shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t touch Ben.
Once will never be enough for me. I know this and I had a hard enough time letting him go in Calgary. There I was looking at his bruise and had a reason to touch him without giving in to my desire.
“No, I’m not dating him. Deacon is happy in his current relationship.”
He couldn’t explain the amount of relief that surged through him at that statement.
“Good.”
“That it?”
The cool aloof attitude bit at his waning control.
No, it wasn’t it. Not even close. Ben must have taken his silence as confirmation, for he gave another shrug and began to walk away.
Matthew didn’t care that Ben had several inches on him. Without hesitation, he slammed his hand outward in an effort to keep Ben there against the vehicle.
“Fuck no.” The sound rumbled from Matthew’s throat.
His left hand was on the car, his right he balled up in the man’s jacket, and he got directly in his face.
“I want to fuck you, Ben. I want to be in a relationship with you, but if you’re not on board with that…” he sucked a breath, “you need to tell me now so I can walk away without doing something else to embarrass myself.”
Ben leaned in, bringing with him the minty scent of his breath and, somehow, even more of his heat. “Like what?”
“Kissing you.”
“As opposed to being basically right here between my legs with less sunlight between us than is trying to come through the clouds above us? You want to kiss me, Matthew? Do it.”
Matthew didn’t even have to think about it.
He did it.
Wrangling For His Love
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